


Food for Thought

by TheDarkFlygon



Series: Function of Feelings [1]
Category: Caduceus | Trauma Center Series
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Headcanon, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkFlygon/pseuds/TheDarkFlygon
Summary: Valerie sneaks a milkshake inside a hospital.
Relationships: Valerie Blaylock/Markus Vaughn
Series: Function of Feelings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022520
Kudos: 7





	Food for Thought

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new worst idea ever for a fic series: Function of Feelings! We're taking fragrances from Function of Beauty because I'm a hoe for their vanilla & nutmeg fragrance of shampoo (and awful puns), and we're applying them to TC ships because, put simply, I c a n.  
> This first story is based on the Milk(shea)ke fragrance, which is vanilla and shea butter. Honestly, since you can't eat shea butter, it's not really in the story, but I do talk about milkshakes for a while in there to compensate for my sucky brain.  
> Writing NB characters is always a bit weird because my grasp on them is much weaker and I need to imagine and project a lot of things on them, so I hope it's not too far from everyone else's interpretation of the characters. I actually really like MarkVal for what it could be if written well (as in: Black Ice is a masterpiece and everyone should read it, even people who aren't into TC, it is a _masterclass_ ). I apologize for the slightly rushed ending: I just wanted this story to stay short and sweet and not, y'know, rot in my laptop for ages.  
> Anyway, this was the warming-up for the rest of the series, so I hope the rest of it will be better than it!

Maybe bringing a milkshake to the aftermath of a surgical fight wasn’t her best idea, she’ll admit she’s reconsidering her decision; but the money was spent and throwing perfectly good milkshakes into the trash is nasty and should be illegal, so she may as well go with her _stupid_ idea.

God, she even picked the _vanilla_ flavour. She can’t even tell what he likes despite bitter-ass coffee that’s borderline undrinkable (or she has a _massive_ sweet tooth, but she’d like to believe she can handle _some_ bitter caffeine). This is going to be such a disaster, the kind Leslie and Justin are never going to live down, the kind Director Quatro is going to at least mention once to Dr Kimishima when she pays them a visit.

She didn’t really know what to get as a get-well present in the first place, so she kind of went with the first thing she thought would be a good thing for a recovering patient: a nice, fresh, sugary treat because hospital food _sucks_ , even at Caduceus. Flowers are kind of lame, chocolates are overdone, paper cards with tacky messages on them would be fun but alone aren’t worth giving, and she didn’t find a balloon seller so she could annoy the piss out of Markus with those.

Dude couldn’t even get a good day to contract Post-GUILT Syndrome. Talk about a _quality surgeon to collaborate with_.

To be fair, Markus had never said he had ever been infected by GUILT back in Ye Olde Terrible Days of Delphi Wrecking Shit All Over California. She knew Elena had gotten briefly infected with Tetarti ten years ago, but Markus, because he’s Markus, never told anyone before it was, as always at Caduceus East Branch, too late. At least, he could have mentioned it once or twice just to avoid the terrible sight of Elena being so worried she almost cried (but, as usual, she maintained a bravado so she could handle the surgery, then went to relax by casually chit-chatting or isolating for a little while), that’d have been good already.

What’s done is done, she supposes, as she contemplates the door of one of their standard patient rooms. Markus was a dumbass once again, Elena and she saved his ass, it’s all good. To cut him some slack, it’s highly improbable for someone to develop PGS so late after their last GUILT infection, since it usually happens (or happened, rather, with GUILT) around three years after said infection of the patient by the pathogen. They’ll have to ask the researchers at Caduceus West to investigate further on that matter just so someone doesn’t pull a Vaughn again.

_C’mon, you can do this, Val._

With her free hand, she knocks. She thinks she can hear a groggy “yes”, but from how muffled it is, she can barely tell. However, since she’s his surgeon, she has every right to consider that was indeed a prompt for her to enter, so she’ll do just that and swallow the heart lumping in her throat before she steps in as a good measure.

Sure enough, her hunch must have been right: her colleague is in bed, but he’s propping himself up on the pillow (and almost failing in the process). It’s good to see him alive since he looked in a pretty bad shape when he was on her operating table and Elena was fidgeting in front of the vitals while trying to keep her calm. Still doesn’t mean she isn’t intensely judging both his decision to hide his medical records until it was almost too late and hers to get him a _stupid_ vanilla milkshake.

“Oh, here’s my surgeon”, he tells her in a deadpan tone, but the smirk on his face betrays him. “G’d afternoon.”

“Actually, it’s already seven in the evening, Mr Vaughn”, she adds trying to choke down a chuckle.

“Take a seat, ain’t like I’m gonna sit on any of those chairs anyway. Elena came by earlier, wished me well, all that jazz.”

She sits on the empty chair by the bed which, sure enough, must have been used by Elena when she paid him a visit.

“I hope she’ll get a salary raise because you’re causing her too much worry.”

“Talk for yourself, Blaylock.”

“You know I’m right.”

Actually seeing the guy she’s worked with for more than a year in post-op is a weird feeling. When you’re a surgeon, you know you can fail, but even with that knowledge, seeing a fellow medical specialist go down never miss to give her this weird feeling of _this shouldn’t be_. He looks like he’s just gotten out of a rough night shift more than a patient, if she’s to exclude the bandages on his chest that can be seen from under his collar (it’s easier to dress your chest surgery patient with stuff where you can see if the wound has reopened, after all).

Wait, is she staring intently at her workmate’s chest? Gross–

“What’s that?” Markus says as he peaks above her shoulder from the bed.

“Ah, uh—” crap, she was distracted, “it’s a…”

“Is that a _milkshake_?”

She can just hear the trademark Vaughn cynicism drip from his tone. God, the others are going to have a _field trip_ with this anecdote…

“Y-yes.”

“Well, good for you. Hosp food sucks, so you better not brag about it.”

Wait, wha—

“I actually picked it up for you, isn’t it obvious?”

And now he’s laughing. Great. If he tears apart his bandages from how loud he’s cackling she ain’t fixing them.

“I’ve had some weird get-well stuff from colleagues before, but the milkshake is a first. What flavour is it?”

“…vanilla.”

That present was crap.

“Going with a classic, huh?”

Keep your calm, keep your calm, keep your calm…

“Y-yes, what’s the issue with classics?”

“There is none. Everyone likes vanilla. Y’know, I’d rather have a vanilla milkshake than the weird crap I’d get. I’m taking your vanilla milkshake every day over hosp food and nuclear-waste-tasting Jell-O.”

“ _Nuclear-waste-tasting_ Jell-O…?!”

“Probably wasn’t called that officially, but the thing was like bright green and smelled like disinfectant. Never fucking again.”

“…well then.”

With careful hands, she gives him the drink. Aren’t they trembling a little now? Why is she so nervous, so suddenly? Or has she been nervous all along about anything other than just some silly gift? Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

“Thankies,” he replies as he grabs the drink, immediately going for a taste. “Hey, isn’t that from the milkshake parlour you always go to in the morning?”

“Well, yeah, it is! They’re _amazing_ , right?”

“Sure are,” he slurps again on the cardboard straw.

Before silence can come, Valerie picks the ball back up.

“Hey, Markus?”

“Yeah?”

“The stunt you pulled with your PGS? Never do that again.”

“Even if it means I can’t have free milkshakes anymore?”

She’s _this_ close to gently knocking him over the head.

“I’d say the opposite. Next time, when you have doubts, just tell us before you collapse from toxicosis due to a previous Kyriaki infection. Else, no milkshake. You can’t drink milkshakes if you’re dead, Markus!”

Uh oh, her genuine anger is starting to show.

“Y’know what? You’re right. That’ll spare me additional chest pains. Sounds cool.”

He’s almost too reasonable for it to be true, but on the other hand, the phrasing sounds like him. She’ll have to wait and see, she imagines. In the meantime…

“Glad we’re on the same idea, then!”

Silence, a little, one she feels like she should be filling but doesn’t know how she should do so.

“Ah, by the way, thanks for the milkshake. Nice timing too.”

“Had to use my employee permissions, so it better be worth it.”

“As someone who loves to abuse his employee privileges, I confirm, that was worth it.”

“Let’s just not mention to anyone else that I sneaked into a medical research facility’s patient wing a milkshake after visiting hours ended.”

“I can keep that a secret.”

“Good.”

Feels like shea butter on unruly hair.


End file.
